


if i told you what i was, would you turn your back on me?

by orphan_account



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, aka the vampire au absolutely no one asked for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-09
Updated: 2015-02-09
Packaged: 2018-03-11 07:47:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3319631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>when jemma comes to she’s expecting to be in her bunk because obviously everything she had experienced was a dream.</p>
<p>she was not sent out on a mission to moscow to retrieve an 0-8-4, she was not captured by russian mercenaries and thrown into a tiny cell, and agent grant ward absolutely did not bite into her wrist and proceed to drink her blood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	if i told you what i was, would you turn your back on me?

For once Jemma would like a mission to go smoothly. No strange Asgardian viruses or evil organizations implanting things in people’s heads, just a normal – or as normal as things for SHIELD can be – mission that ties up cleanly. But to be fair, that’s what the mission she’s currently on appeared to be at first. And seeing as how she’s currently locked in a tiny cell with a _very_ agitated specialist in the cell beside hers, the mission tied up anything but cleanly.

It started when the team got a call about an 0-8-4. That wasn’t too out of the ordinary and Coulson just didn’t see the logic in dragging the entire team out to Moscow when he could just send a small team to handle it. Jemma knew she’d be going considering it was first reported as some sort of potential biohazardous material, and she assumed May would be tagging along with her for security measures. However, May ended up requesting to stay on the Bus meaning Agent Ward would have to fill in for her instead.

Jemma has no problem with Ward. In fact, she rather likes him despite the fact that sometimes she’s not sure whether he actually likes her. It’s just that if she had to choose someone to travel all the way from Brussels to Moscow with, Ward would not exactly be top of her list. With May, it’s pretty much guaranteed that Jemma would be spending most of the time in silence. With Ward it was…different. She swears it’s like sometimes he has two personalities.

She first noticed it after the Chitauri incident. He went from avoiding the lab unless absolutely necessary to visiting once or twice to day to bring her tea. He actually made an effort to talk to her about non-SHIELD related things and it was sort of nice. She felt like maybe she was finally forging a friendship with him. But after the Bezerker situation, he started completely ignoring her. She understood it; he had experienced something very emotionally taxing and It was totally logical that he wouldn’t feel like interacting with anyone. But after about a week of being ignored – almost childishly, if you ask her – Jemma was starting to get a bit offended. If she entered a room, he’d leave. If she suggested this, he’d suggest that. It was getting to the point where she was the one who was beginning not to want to be around him anymore.

So that was their relationship now. Sometimes he’d say something and she would think maybe he’d gotten over the remaining effects of the Bezerker staff but then moments later he’d do something that would lead her to believe he hadn’t. So if given the choice between May and Ward, yeah, she’d choose May.

Unfortunately, Jemma didn’t have a choice so she took off to Moscow with Agent Ward. They managed to make a bit of small talk and things weren’t _too_ bad. The extraction of the 0-8-4 went rather well, too. Until, of course, the mercenaries showed up. And _that_ was how they got thrown into neighboring cells.

Jemma was in the middle of trying to figure out a way to tell how much time had passed – their cells had no windows but it couldn’t have been more than a few hours – when Ward decided to finally say something.

“I can get us out of here.” Jemma glances over at him through the wall of bars that separated them. “I’m serious. I can.”

“How? They took away anything we could have used to escape and I’m pretty sure the only people that could tear those bars apart are Captain America and the Hulk and they are unfortunately not here at the moment.” She doesn’t mean to be snippy but, honestly. She could do without any false hope right now.

Ward sighs and scoots closer to the wall between them. “Jemma,” she doesn’t think he’s ever _once_ called her by her first name and it gets her to look at him. “I can get us out of here.” He looks the picture of seriousness and for a moment she thinks he may be telling the truth. Or at least, he _believes_ he’s telling the truth.

Jemma realizes she has two options. She can either sit in her cell and wait for the mercenaries to return and do god-knows-what to them, or she can entertain whatever plan Ward has.

She decides on Ward’s plan.

“Fine,” she scoots over to meet him at the shared wall. “What’s your plan?”

“For this to work I’m going to need something from you.” He pauses as if considering his words. God, she really hopes he doesn’t want her to do anything insane like break her thumbs or fake some sort of ailment to lure the guards in. She’s _really_ not good at bone breaking or being bait. “I need some of your blood.”

Maybe it’s the fact that she hasn’t eaten in a while or that she’s going a bit stir-crazy, but when the words leave Ward’s mouth, Jemma can’t help but laugh. Loudly.

“I’m sorry, what? You want my _blood_?” He nods, mouth set in a hard line. Apparently he didn’t find this as amusing as she did. “What do you need my blood for? If you’re going to fake a bloody wound or something, use your own blood.”

“I don’t need it to fake anything. I need it because – “ In the short time she’s known him Jemma has never seen Ward look flustered. Until now. “This is way, _way_ above your clearance level but, I need it so I can…drink it.”

Now Jemma’s no longer amused. Now she’s just…creeped out.

“We’ve been kidnapped and held prisoner by Russian mercenaries who could be out there right now using the 0-8-4 for nefarious reasons and your grand plan to escape is to _drink my blood_?” She asks a little more cynically than she intended.

He brings his hand up and runs it over his face and that’s when Jemma notices just how pale he looks. She knows he got roughed up pretty badly in the struggle when they were taken but he looks downright ill.

“If you do this I promise I will explain once we’ve escaped. Just,” he brings his gaze up to meet hers. “Trust me, please.”

The logical side of Jemma’s brain is telling her to politely decline his request and scoot back over to the corner of her cell and avoid any sort of contact with him since, you know, he apparently drinks human blood. However the other side, the more emotion-driven one, is urging her to do exactly as he’s asked: to trust him. Grant Ward jumped out of a plane in an attempt to save her life not knowing if he’d actually be able to do it. He could’ve died that day saving her. She supposes giving in to his very, _very_ weird request is a small form of payback.

“Your explanation better be damn good.” He lights up slightly at her words. She gets a bit closer to the wall so they can discuss their – _his_ – plan more quietly. “So how are we doing this? Do you have anything sharp I can slice my palm with or – “

He quickly shakes his head. “Can you slide your arm through the bar?”

“I think so,” The cell’s bars are fairly spaced out and Jemma’s always been a naturally petite person. She’s sure can squeeze her arm through to his cell.

“Roll up your sleeve and give me your arm. Doesn’t matter which one.”

Jemma does as he asks and manages to get her arm through with only minimal discomfort. She’s not sure what he’s going to do exactly but whatever it is, she doesn’t want to see so she turns her head away. She feels his hands – cold and clammy – grab her forearm. She braces for the slice of something sharp through her skin but the sensation never comes. Instead she feels his warm breath on her wrist and –

“Wait, what are you – “ She turns and immediately wishes she‘d stayed looking away. It’s a quick glimpse but she sees just enough of Ward’s mouth to notice the fangs – decidedly very inhuman fangs – before she feels the pricks in her wrist.

He is quite literally _drinking_ her blood.

Jemma can’t bring herself to yank away from him or even muster up any verbal protest. She can _feel_ the blood leaving her body and she’s starting to feel a bit lightheaded. He’s taking too much too fast yet she can’t seem to get her brain to tell her mouth to say anything. She’s going limp – he needs to _stop_ – and the last thing she hears before she blacks out is the sound of the guards’ feet stomping against the pavement and very loud angry Russian words.

;;

When Jemma comes to she’s expecting to be in her bunk because _obviously_ everything she had experienced was a dream.

She was not sent out on a mission to Moscow to retrieve an 0-8-4, she was not captured by Russian mercenaries and thrown into a tiny cell, and Agent Grant Ward absolutely _did not_ bite into her wrist and proceed to drink her blood.

Only when she opens her eyes, she’s not in her bunk. She’s in some strange room on a strange bed and Ward’s seated in a chair beside her looking very worried. And she might actually still be inclined to believe it was all a dream if she didn’t notice the bandage wrapped around her left wrist.

“You’re awake,” Ward breathes out a long sigh of relief. “Jemma, I am so sorry. I should’ve stopped but I was so weak and hungry – “

Jemma holds up a hand to keep him from continuing. She pauses for a moment before speaking. “You owe me an explanation, remember?”

He bows his head sheepishly. “Anything specific you’d like to know?”

She wants to tell him to just start at the beginning but she doesn't have that sort of patience right now. For now, she’ll just ask the obvious. “Why _did_ you need to drink my blood?”

“The same reason you need to eat.” He answers shortly.

There’s another question lingering on her lips but she simply refuses to ask it. Ward _is_ a human being. Albeit a strange one that for some reason regains strength from drinking human blood but still. He’s a human.

“I’m not human.”

Okay. Maybe he needs to drink human blood _and_ he can read minds?

Ward sighs again and stands from the chair to start pacing around the room. “There’s not much I can tell you since this information is technically above your clearance but an undercover mission I was on ended in me becoming this…thing.”

“You mean a - ” Jemma can’t believe she’s actually saying this. “Vampire.”

“Yeah,” Ward lets out a short laugh. “Basically.”

Okay. So Ward is a vampire. She can deal with that. She can definitely (maybe) deal with that.

“Does Coulson know?” She knows there are better questions that she probably should be asking but her brain is kind of overwhelmed at the moment.

“He and May are the only ones. Well,” he pivots on his heel to face her. “Him, May and now, you. And I’m hoping that’s all who’ll know.”

She nods assuredly. “This will be our little secret.”

He manages a smile before returning back to his chair. His eyes dart over her bandaged wrist before his smile fades. “I’m sorry again about that. I know it was our only shot of escaping but, I never should have asked you; I knew I’d lose control with you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Being what I am, all my emotions are heightened. When you jumped from the Bus and I saved you, the protectiveness I felt over you increased tenfold.” He says. “But when I touched the Bezerker staff, something else inside of me was triggered. It was like this extreme bloodlust that I only felt towards you. I didn’t want to hurt you or anything; I just really wanted to know what your blood tasted like. That’s why I was so angry with everyone and why I started acting like a dick around you. I wanted something I knew I couldn’t have and it pissed me off.”

Well, that explained a lot. Jemma supposes if there were a giant cup of tea walking around that she couldn’t at least take a sip from, she’d be pretty irritated too. Still, it was a lot for her to take in.

“Well I hope my blood lived up to expectations.” Maybe it was a bit of a morbid joke to make but, honestly, she didn’t know what else to say.

“Best I’ve ever had.” He says plainly.

Jemma doesn’t quite know if that’s meant to be a compliment, but she takes it as one.

**Author's Note:**

> i may write a follow-up to this (or maybe it'll be a series, who knows) because this is totally not what i intended it to be but we shall see how that goes depending on how you guys feel about it.
> 
> kudos/comments are always appreciated!


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